The cloth in the greenhouse
Objects become artifacts despite themselves. They are placed for a purpose, are defined in that moment by their utility, and then abandoned to the kinetic decay of inertia. In that decay, they discover a disheveled grace, like an aged beauty captured in a soul-searing smile.
Look around you today. What can you see that was once purposeful, is now forgotten, and is defined by a new sort of beauty.
Like this cloth draped once to protect the greenhouse from the sun’s bright rays, falling and ineffective now. Look closely at the texture, the line, the way it softens the space with mystery.
This kind of beauty is all around us, but we only see it sometimes.